


transient diaphragmatic spasm

by unchangeable57



Category: The Good Doctor (TV 2017)
Genre: Ableism, Canon Autistic Character, F/F, Gen, Gender Exploration, Gender Identity, Lea is a supportive girlfriend, Medical Inaccuracies, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Trans Girl, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Shaun murphy is a nonbinary lesbian thank you for your time, Trans Female Character, Trans Girl Shaun, Transphobia, au where shaun interacts with the internet more like the millenial she is, au where this show is a little less ableist, autistic author, me rubbing my greedy queer hands over everything, post s1ep14, they lesbianing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 04:31:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17974541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unchangeable57/pseuds/unchangeable57
Summary: Shaun is a boy, because doctors called him a boy when he was born. But doctors called Quinn a boy, and she's a girl. Shaun didn't know there was anything else he could be.or;Shaun learns that gender is complicated and she really likes nail polish





	transient diaphragmatic spasm

There are three stages to Shaun's realization. Stage one is denial. 

“That's a penis. He's a boy.” Because that's how Shaun learned, how Dad and school and Steve said. But no one agrees. Quinn is embarrassed, angry, and the rest of team gets angry too, at Shaun, but Shaun is confused. Binary makes sense, not these… feelings and identities. So Shaun asks questions, and gets more of that embarrassed-angry-”I-can't-deal-with-you”, but also gets answers.

Stage two is understanding. It's hard, accepting this new knowledge, but it happens. Shaun doesn't like making people unhappy, and if calling her a girl makes Quinn happy, then maybe that's just the word that describes her. It makes about as much sense as all the other rules people have taught Shaun. Maybe Quinn's grandma needs the swimming pool to understand, too.

Stage three is questioning. If that could really be its own stage, then Shaun's life has been in its questioning stage this whole time. But Shaun isn't asking Quinn, because Quinn has given so many answers and posed questions of her own. And more importantly, because she left Shaun a list of websites to look at. So the internet is getting the brunt of the questions, but Shaun is also throwing a considerable amount of them inwards.

Shaun who, according to these newly-digested standards, is almost definitely not cisgender. 

What they actually are is something that still eludes them, late into the water-drip filled night as they burn through their laptop’s battery. Normally, the open-ended schedule of the weekend sets Shaun on edge, but they have a strong feeling that the conversations they want to start having will leave them busy for more than the resident's one day off.

It's 6:13 a.m., 9:13 Hershey time when Shaun calls Lea, and she's the first to start speaking. “Shaun! What's goin’ on-?”

“How do you know you're a girl?”

Lea takes a breath before answering, and there's a sound from her end that sounds like she's getting out of bed. Lea would often get mad at Shaun for being a “morning person” when getting up and active at eight, so this isn't entirely surprising. She doesn't sound overly surprised at the question, and there's none of the embarrassed-angry from the hospital.

“I guess I was lucky enough that I always knew. I've never really questioned it much-I feel good in my body and with words like ‘girl’ or ‘she’, and I always have. But it's definitely not that way for everyone,” it's like Lea can sense what Shaun is about to ask whenever she explains something. Shaun knew calling her first would be the most rewarding path.

“What about you, Shaun?”

They climb out of their bed as well, and look at their body in the full-length mirror leaning against the wall. “Patients diagnosed with autism are at a higher likelihood to meet diagnostic criteria for gender dysphoria than the general populace.”

Lea’s sharp inhale isn't missed through the receiver. She got it. “Is this new info for you, or are you just sharing with me now? Both are totally chill, by the way.”

“Our patient today was a-doctors called her a boy. But she isn't. Doctors said I was a boy…” Shaun is rocking on the heels of their feet, the hems of their pajama pant-legs swaying against the tops.

“... But you aren't?” Lea fills in. Shaun nods, realizes she can't hear, hums low in their throat. “That's okay, Shaun. Did you want me to come visit? We can talk more, go get pancakes-”

“Please, y-yes please.”

Keys turning an ignition through tinny speakers, “Already on my way.”

\--

They don't talk much, during brunch. Well, Lea talks, but it means about as much as Shaun’s not-talking: lighthearted complaints about her brother, intimate descriptions of some of the cars she's fixed, insulting impressions of the pretentious hipsters at the farmers market. 

Through a mouthful of pancakes, Lea asks, “So what’re your pronouns? And can I still call you Shaun?”

“People with feminine identities typically use she/her pronouns,” she responds, “and Shaun is still my name.”

Her (companion? girlfriend?) nods and swallows, “And you're a feminine-identifying person?”

Shaun nods, then lifts her body up and down in her seat in a stiff shrug. Lea nods and flashes her a smile before raising a glass to her:

“To my new femme partner. Her name is Shaun.”

After food, Lea scrounges through her hastily packed bag to find a couple bottles of drug store nail polish. Once she assures that all the windows are open and the fans are on, Shaun sits with her and they paint nails. Lea lets Shaun use her chipping nails as a dry run, letting her get familiar to the weight and pace as she meticulously fills in the cracks on Lea’s worn nails with maroon.

For herself, Shaun chooses a soft eggshell blue with a matte finish. Her nails are short, and her steady surgeons hands allow her to apply two even coats to each nail. As with most things, the resident had approached this new sensation with caution, but she finds she enjoys the constant pressure of the dry paint up against her nail bed.

Eventually Lea convinces her to look through the clothes and accessories she'd brought, and Shaun's hand lingers on a silken scarf before settling on a baby-blue long hair pin, carefully picking it up and sliding it into her left fringe. Once she finishes, Lea encourages her to look in the mirror, and the person who looks back is… lighter. Not softer, or cuter, or any variation in expression, but the ways she holds her shoulders and balances on her feet; she's freer than she was hours, seconds ago.

“I am Shaun Murphy,” she says, “and I am a girl.”

\--

Lea’s next advice is to tell the head of the HR department about her gender. Shaun doesn't remember being introduced to a specific HR representative, but from enough accidental eavesdropping she knows that Risk Management communicates with Human Resources regularly. This is why Shaun shows up to shift three hours early and walks to Ms. Preston's office after putting on her white coat.

Jessica answers the door a little startled, but smiles and welcomes her in regardless. “Dr. Murphy; to what do I owe this visit?”

“I'm a-like Quinn. I'm like Quinn.” Girl reverberates in her head, but the word doesn't seem like it belongs here, it seems like she doesn't quite own it yet. So Shaun says this and she wonders if Jessica is enough like Glassman to understand.

The attorney blinks, recalculating, “The transgender patient from last week?”

Shaun bounces in place with the force of her nods, and Jessica’s eyes widen in realization. To her credit, she schools her expression quickly. “May I ask your pronouns?”

“She/her. I'm a-yeah. She and her. I am still Shaun Murphy.”

Jessica walks behind her desk and starts sifting through papers, “Well you are free to let me know if that also changes. Now, the hospital has its own fully-outfitted gender clinic with multiple resources, and I can-”

Shaun flaps her hand, “I am aware of the different departments Saint Bonaventure is equipped with. I am here for  _ your _ help.” She gives a full-bodied nod before making her way to the couch at the side of the office.

The attorney stops looking at her desk and gets eye contact with Shaun, reading her for a brief second. “Professional help, or personal?”

After a few rocking motions, Shaun responds, “Both.”

With that, Jessica sighs and walks over to the couch as well, sitting a comfortable yet not impersonal distance apart from Shaun. She clasps her hands in her lap in a more fluid mirror of Shaun and leans in to her slightly.  

Honestly, Shaun is sick of answering questions, so she is grateful that Jessica doesn't ask, just waits for her to start. “I grew up being told I was a boy. And I believed that, because that is what made sense. Gender does not make sense. But. Feminine things, being a addressed as a girl, being looked at as a girl. That's what I like. The rest is-” she waves her hand “-allistic stuff.”

Jessica nods before saying, “Allistic?”

“People with autism are autistic. People without autism are allistic.” Shaun explains. “Gender is a social construct, and autistic people often have difficulty understanding social rules and constructs. So. Allistic stuff.”

There's a rueful smile on Jessica's face, and she gives a short laugh, “Thank you, Shaun. So you want my help with the ‘allistic stuff’?”

Shaun nods, allowing a smile to spread on her face, and continues, “I don't know… what to do next? I know me. I know what  _ I  _ want for me, for my body, but I don't,” She sighs and ruffles her hair, careful not to disturb the pin. “I don't know what other people need. What I say, how and when, who needs to know…”

“Well, would it be alright if I gave some suggestions?” Jessica asks, and Shaun hums an affirmative. “Okay. Considering you came to me, I'm assuming you want to be out at work.” She leaves space for Shaun to voice a correction, but the resident doesn't, just keeps her head tilted in attention, “Then my professional advice would be to tell Dr. Melendez first. As the attending, he's responsible not just for the behavior of his residents, but for their well-being during residency. On the personal side,” Jessica gauges Shaun's reaction, taking in her painted nails as she plays with her fingers in her lap, “Melendez would still be a reasonable choice. While I know you started with a tense relationship, he has grown defensive of you, and of your right to stay here.” 

Shaun's eyes widen in near comical surprise, and Jessica can't help but chuckle, “I know, he probably tries not to show it around you, but he's fond of all his residents. He's also very understanding and receptive to change.” After a moment, Shaun seems to accept this, nodding and running her hands against her slacks. 

“I can coordinate an announcement to the rest of the surgical staff, but…  _ allistics _ tend to want to be told about things like this in person, especially if it involves someone they know personally.” She hasn't mentioned Glassman yet, but Shaun thinks that that was probably referring to him. Silence settles over them again before, without warning, Shaun stands again.

“Thank you very much,” she says, eyes drifting as close to Jessica's as she's comfortable with, “I will be leaving now. How can I talk with you about this later?”

A soft chuckle, “I have your phone number and email on file. Goodbye, Shaun; and good luck.”

\--

Clocking into work is good. She is freer and lighter than she's ever been, and yet her secret is heavy. Not in a bad way; like the comforting weight of the lead vest worn for x-rays. Shaun is different, her whole world is changed, but work is the same. She's addressed by ‘Murphy’ more than any pronoun or gendered reference, and with the way she tends to keep her hands clasped no one has noticed the nail polish. (This isn't entirely true; a short patient with an undercut undergoing a proximal hamstring reattachment commented ‘Nice nails’ as Shaun was answering some of the questions she'd had about her recovery. There was only a nurse there to hear it, though. She'd seemed sincere.)

It's only as the shift is winding down that Shaun lets herself think about setting up a meeting with Dr. Melendez at all. She has no reason to believe that Jessica was lying, and he has significantly decreased his tendency to triple-check her work, but growing more respectful in a professional setting and being accepting of personal identity change has no meaningful correlation. This is something Lea would respond to aggressively, saying that it shouldn't matter what Melendez thinks at all, but Shaun knows that personal biases play a significant role in how understanding someone is willing to be. She's worried.

There's only two hours left of shift and they have just finished a carotid endarterectomy when she realizes that she doesn't even know how to schedule a meeting with her attending. They've had occasional private asides, but considering the typical bureaucracy of the hospital, there is most likely a more formal route to take than walking up to Dr. Melendez and asking. Shaun runs through the increasingly short list of people she can ask about this in her head: at this point, outside of Melendez himself, Claire seems to be the only viable option. Claire tends to be more talkative once the scheduled procedures of the day are done, so it's not difficult to start up a conversation.

“Hey Shaun, what's up?” It may be hard for her to read some emotions, but this isn't: Claire is happy, most likely from the successful surgery.

Her eyes drift away from Claire as she responds, “How do I schedule a private meeting with Dr. Melendez?”

Claire drops her smile, adopting a thoughtful expression, “Hmm. Well, you could always ask him to talk for a couple minutes if it's nothing serious, but for a professional meeting I'm pretty sure there's a form we're supposed to fill out; here, let's go look for one at the nurse's station and you can tell me what the meeting is about. If you want.” She starts walking before she finishes and Shaun follows close behind. 

She's thankful that Claire didn't phrase it as a question, or require her to answer. Really, it would make the most sense for Shaun to share it with Claire first; they are friends. And if Melendez reacts poorly, Claire will be able to defend her on this just as she does when people doubt her ability. Yes, Shaun should tell her what this is about.

“I am a girl.” Claire isn't looking at her when she says this, is bent over flipping through a stack of papers, but she quickly straightens and turns to her, knocking quite a few of the sheets to the ground in the process. The look on her face isn't confusion, or it was, for a second, but her eyes are wide and shining and her mouth is slightly open.

And then she's hugging her. 

“Oh  _ Shaun, _ ” she breathes into the embrace, and then as if just noticing herself she immediately lets go and steps back, “sorry, sorry, I know hugs aren't your thing. And sorry again, I didn't ask-I mean-I don't know if-I called you your birth name.”

She seems increasingly flustered, so Shaun makes an effort to speak up, “It is still my name.”

“Good, good,” Claire looks at her and smiles, “Okay. You're Shaun. You're a girl.” She takes a breath, trying to school her expression. “Okay, and that's what you're meeting with Melendez about?”

Shaun nods and steps around her to pick up the papers on the floor, “As the attending, he is responsible for residents’ well being during their residency. You are okay with me being transgender.”

“Of course! Did I do something to make you think I wouldn't be?” She looks concerned now, reflecting on her own past behavior.

“No. You were very kind with Quinn, and you are nice to me, so I expected a good reaction. Ah. This seems like the right form.” One of the papers Shaun was helping pick up is labeled ‘Intra-Departmental Meetings’, and after scanning its content briefly she reaches for one of her pens and begins filling it out. She notices that Claire hasn't moved once she's halfway through the form and looks up. The other resident seems to be lost in thought. Shaun doesn't question it.

Form completed, Shaun drops it off before making the final additions to her logs for the day. While her colleagues often complain about the many electronic forms that must be completed for each patient, she finds it relaxing to group all of the knowledge about each patient together in a standardized fashion, and she usually completes hers significantly faster than her peers. Tonight is no exception, so she uses her extra time to change back into her clothes in the locker room. The others tend to simply wear their scrubs home. This doesn't make much sense to her: scrubs are for work, and how anyone can stand the scratchy fabric for longer than shift is beyond her. 

She wore one of Lea’s sweaters to work today, but it's doubtful anyone noticed. She got in and changed earlier than usual because of the meeting with Jessica, and even those who did see the sweater wouldn't be able to spot anything out of the ordinary with it. But Shaun knows, and that's enough. Debating with herself for a moment, she gives in and reaches into the pocket of her slacks, pulling out the hair pin. She'd slid it out before shift started; something about the sweater and nails and pin felt like too much, too fast, but sliding it into her hair is a gentle release. 

The bus ride home is filled with planning what she'll say at the meeting with Melendez to the soundtrack of Lea’s most recent playlist for her. Considering her normal tastes, this playlist is significantly more tame; Lea named it ‘girl love’, a collection of acoustic lesbian love songs, and the soft guitar melodies carry her from the bus stop into her apartment building. Lea had been willing to to stay longer and assist her with the coming-out process, but Shaun knew she still needs to be on-call at her brother’s shop and told her to go. Having the apartment to herself lets her freely test wordings of what she wants to say to Dr. Melendez.

Shaun doesn’t really know how she feels about him. She respects his surgical knowledge, and has seen first-hand that the man is respectful and caring to most, often going out of his way to make patients comfortable or send special thanks to the nurses. But that respect hadn’t extended to Shaun, at least not in the beginning, and she knows why. Honestly, she sometimes prefers the outright disgust or anger people will choose to throw at her autism, because at least she can understand it, but the more subtle undercutting employed by ‘polite’ people is just as painful, and is made even more so when it comes from someone in a position of power. She still doesn’t know if she has Melendez’s respect; as a surgeon, she’s proved her worth to him, but she can’t tell if that respect extends to her as a person, or if he shares the view that her autism is an ‘unfortunate’ part of her.

Because Shaun has another secret, something she hasn’t even told Dr. Glassman for fear of upsetting their occasionally fragile relationship: she  _ likes _ her autism. For as much as people have tried to shame or beat it out of her, it is how she experiences the world, how she finds so much joy in a worn cotton shirt or a Ewing’s sarcoma, and she sometimes wonders if people like Melendez might benefit from seeing the world the way she does.

**Author's Note:**

> i started writing this like the Instant i watched this episode. this is based largely on my experience as an autistic nb trans boy; the reason there's more focus on the word 'girl' than woman is bc my identity is more tied to boy than man, there are slightly different gender expectations from the words, and shaun is more comfortable with 'girly' femininity.   
> i have a notoriously awful update schedule and like ten wips, and final exams are comin round the corner so don't expect an update any time soon (seriously it could be a month) but! i have too many headcanons abt this so feel free to ask if ur into that  
> as always, comments cure my depression


End file.
